


Falling Into Obscurity

by seductivembrace



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1318729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seductivembrace/pseuds/seductivembrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set just after <i>No Place Like Home</i> and going A/U from there. Glory has come to town and is bent on finding her key. A prophecy holds the key to her destruction, but when it might involve a 	certain blond-headed pest, will the gang go for it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Buffy didn’t stay long in Dawn’s room. The holy man’s words had been a revelation… and had rocked her word. Yes, the key being made human and fitted into her life was enough to cause some serious wiggins. But, that wasn’t what had her out walking Sunnydale’s cemeteries long after her mother and sister went to bed.  

She sniffed, wiping awkwardly at a tear that had finally managed to spill over onto her cheek. So caught up in the mess her life had become lately, Buffy didn’t sense the vampire slowly stalking her, and she started when it growled. 

She would have been thrown to the ground if it had made contact, possibly had her neck bitten before she managed to get her wits about her. As it was, she was saved from her own carelessness. By Spike. The “out for a walk, bitch… you have stupid hair” Spike. 

Buffy blinked owlishly as he proceeded to pulverize the fledgling now cowering on the ground. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike was tucked back into his customary spot on Revello Drive by the time the Slayer had returned from wherever it was that she’d been in such an all-fired hurry to get to earlier. He frowned at seeing the huge gash on her forehead, and even worse, the whipped manner that seemed to cling to her like a second skin. She’d gone up against something, something big, and looked like she’d barely managed to walk away from it. 

He watched her step inside her house and knew that in a few minutes the light in her bedroom would turn on. He pulled out one of his cigarettes and lit it while he waited for what was to come – the tantalizing view of the Slayer changing into her nightgown behind what she thought was the safety of her curtain. Little did she realize that the light beside her bed illuminated her silhouette. 

The glimpse of her shadow was enough for him to take in and wank off to later. Especially given that Captain Cardboard was conspicuously absent tonight and he didn’t have to listen to their all-too-brief coupling.   

He’d just lit his second cigarette when he heard her back door open and close. His brow knitted in consternation and he flicked his half-finished cigarette onto the ground, stomping it to dust as he moved away from the tree. 

_Where was the Slayer going now?_  

It wasn’t like her to venture out once she’d completed her patrol, not even for a nightcap with Soldier Boy, and his curiosity got the better of him. 

Spike began to worry when, several times, he’d closed the distance between them enough for her to sense his presence – if not outright have her see him standing there behind her – but she’d been oblivious. Her shoulders were slumped, her head downcast, her mind clearly not on her surroundings. 

He’d had to warn off several vamps, who’d thankfully taken one look at his “don’t mess with me, I’m the Big Bad” expression and had faded back into the shadows, looking for easier prey than an unsuspecting Slayer with a vampire for a bodyguard. They’d been smart. The one that was seconds away from catching the Slayer unawares obviously wasn’t.  

With an enraged growl, Spike launched himself at the vamp, catching him before it could touch what he secretly thought of as his girl. He didn’t spare the Slayer a glance as he lit into the fledgling after tackling it to the ground, punching it repeatedly in the face as he straddled his chest. In a blind fury, he didn’t feel the hand on his shoulder, or hear her voice at first. 

“Just stake it already, Spike, I don’t think it’s moving.” 

A stake appeared in front of his chest, and snarling, Spike snatched it out of her hand and plunged it into the vamp’s unbeating heart. Its dusting was anticlimactic, and he rose to his feet, anger at the Slayer’s inattention making him ready to take her on next. 

“What the bloody hell was that, Slayer? A bleedin’ fledge almost had himself one good day. Where’s your mind that you didn’t recognize it, or any of the other four I managed to scare off before they could make a move?” he demanded.  

With too much nervous energy to stand there unmoving and wait for her explanation, Spike began pacing back and forth in front of her, mumbling under his breath about Slayers and their penchant for death wishes. He didn’t see how her face crumpled, how she struggled to fight back her tears. 

All he did see, once he happened to glance up, was her retreating figure moving deeper into the cemetery. 

Jaw clenched, he started after her. His hand grasped her shoulder, and something should have told him right off that all was not right in the land of Buffy because she barely tried to shrug him off; any other time he would have been sent flying into the nearest tree – or headstone – for so bold a move. 

“Wait just a bloody minute, Slayer,” he started.

“Leave me alone, Spike. I’m not in the mood. I… just go… _please_ …” She really didn’t want to break down in front of him.  

It was the please that did it for him. Not that he expected the Slayer to actually open up to him and explain the reason for her upset, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. He walked around to stand in front of her, biting his lip as he placed a hand beneath her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. Again she didn’t seem to protest, and he felt something clench in the region of his unbeating heart at the tears he saw brimming in her eyes. 

“Buffy, what is it?”  

Her name slipped out by accident, but she didn’t seem to notice. However, the tears she’d been trying valiantly to hold back, started anew. Next thing Spike knew, the Slayer was pressed against his chest, her arms clutching the back of his duster. It was like his dreams come to life, he couldn’t help but think, as his arms closed around her back and he held her while she cried. Rather than stand there, Spike gathered her up into his arms and walked over to one of the cemetery’s crypts. He sat down next to it, using the wall as a back rest, and easily settled the Slayer more securely on his lap. 

He stroked her back and his chest rumbled with a soothing purr-like growl designed to offer comfort. Surprising, given that a week ago, he’d been seeking a means to remove his chip and have himself his _own_ “one good day.” 

A dream had taken care of that – turned him into the Slayer’s pet vamp. He _should_ be glorying in her tears; instead, he was sitting there, holding her… and bloody well near purring. 

Oh, how the Big Bad had fallen. 

And hard.  

Finally she seemed to wind down, and Spike knew the second she realized where she was, and who she was with. Her body grew stiff in his arms, and he didn’t have to look at her to sense the disgust that was sure to be making its way across her features. 

“All better now, Slayer?” he asked before she could scramble off his lap.  

Spike didn’t protest as she pulled away; though, when she only resettled herself at his side he couldn’t keep the surprised look off his face. She didn’t notice; she was staring straight ahead, refusing to look in his direction. 

“Wanna talk about it?” His voice was low, soothing. Spike didn’t really think she would. Hell, he was surprised she’d not rushed off as if the hounds of Hell were baying at her feet. He could have been felled by a light breeze when she opened her mouth and words came tumbling out. Haltingly at first, then in a rush as she tried to get it out in the open. 

His eyes widened at hearing that Dawn wasn’t the Slayer’s sister but was in fact a mystical key made flesh; he had distinct memories of the Bit that dated back to when he’d rolled into Sunnydale for the first time. He didn’t interrupt her though – keeping his thoughts to himself for the time being – not wanting to do anything that might get her to close up on him. Spike also learned of the thing – the woman – that had taken a chunk out of his Slayer, and he mentally cringed at the thought of something stronger than the Slayer being anywhere near the Hellmouth. But, it was neither of those two revelations that had Buffy sobbing like a little girl.  

It was the fact that there was something wrong with her mother that had done her in.  

The news rocked him as well. The Slayer’s mum was alright in his book. Anyone that could wield an axe before a master vampire and not flinch – no matter that the master vampire had been he – was someone to be reckoned with, and Spike could see where the Slayer got her courage from, if not her strength. Plus, Joyce always had a cuppa ready for him, right down to the tiny marshmallows he liked so well. To this day, the Slayer had no idea he still visited the woman, and had even before the chip; it was his and Joyce’s secret.  

That something was causing the woman to have such debilitating headaches made him frown. 

“Does your watcher know… about the Bit?” he asked when the Slayer finally fell silent. 

“No. I can’t risk something happening to them. This woman… this _thing_ … was adamant about getting her ‘key’ back.” 

“Guess the ol’ sayin’ ‘ignorance is bliss’ is a good thing right now,” Spike mused. “And, not that ‘m not grateful for the vote of confidence, but why tell me?” 

“I don’t know,” Buffy murmured. And, she didn’t. When she’d seen him earlier that night, she’d winded up punching him in the nose, before she’d stalked off in disgust. Maybe it was because he’d inadvertently saved her life that she’d broken down and confessed. And for some strange reason, she trusted him not to say anything. Mind-boggling, to say the least. 

But, something in her gut told her that he’d keep her secrets. A thought she shied away from upon further inspection.  

The pair lapsed into silence, both lost in their own thoughts.  

It was the Slayer’s slowing heart rate that finally jarred Spike out of his silent contemplations and he stood and offered her a hand up. 

“Come on, pet. It’s gettin’ late. Best be gettin’ home.” 

Her hand seemed to sear his palm as she slipped it into his. He tamped down his body’s instant response to her touch and drew her awkwardly to her feet. 

They started walking towards the exit of the cemetery and by some unspoken command their hands fell away from each other. Their pace was unhurried, as if neither was quite ready for the night to be over. 

For Buffy, it was a sudden revelation of the vampire beside her, like she was seeing him for the first time. Seeing the changes in him. 

For Spike, he was happily basking in the glimpse of the softer side of the Slayer he’d seen tonight, and how they’d not once reverted to the snippiness that defined their “relationship” – he knew that with the dawning of a new day, it would be like the night never was.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy arrived at the Magic Box just as it was opening. She had to let Giles know about the woman she had encountered last night. But under no circumstances was she going to let him know about Dawn. 

Hopefully a bit of research would clue her in on what she was up against. 

“Well, she’s strong… _really_ strong. She barely even felt the blows I managed to land,” she replied in answer to his question. 

Giles took in his Slayer’s appearance and winced. Her forehead was a motley shade of purple and green, and the gash must have been deep because it was barely healed over. And that was just the visible signs of her altercation, if her slight limp was discounted.  

“Strong,” he confirmed, writing it down on a sheet of paper. “Anything else? What did she look like?” 

“Like a skank ho with a bad perm. Her dress was so last year, but I have to give her props on her choice of shoes. Musta set her back a good bit. Jimmy Choo’s are _not_ cheap!” 

“Um… while I appreciate the… erm… fashion update, I was quite hoping for more in the way of physical attributes.” 

“I dunno, Giles. Little taller than me. Dark hair. Nothing remarkable to look at. Reminded me of one of the Cordettes. She could have easily fit in to Cordy’s clique.” 

Giles heaved a sigh, his thumb and forefinger rubbing wearily at the bridge of his nose. Finally, he removed his glasses and glanced up at his slayer. 

“Look,” she told him, already recognizing the look on his face. “I didn’t really have time to get a good look at her. She was kicking my ass all over the warehouse. I barely had time to grab the priest and make a run for it out the window—” 

The words were no sooner out of her mouth that she was silently cursing her slip of the tongue. 

“Priest?” 

“I didn’t mention the priest?” she asked, wincing at her watcher’s aggrieved expression. “ _Oops_?” 

“Oops? I fail to see how you could forget to mention some random priest in the retelling. What is going on, Buffy?” 

“Look, I forgot, alright. I was a little busy dealing with the ass whooping I was on the receiving end of – and thanks for the watcherly concern, by the way – that I forgot to mention some priest that died moments after we crashed onto the ground. And, can I just say… _ouch_? He was _not_ light, and the concrete did little to cushion my fall.” 

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m not trying to trivialize your injuries… it’s just… did he happen to _say_ anything? Give you a clue as to the woman’s identity.” 

“Only that she’s looking for some key. And that I’m supposed to keep it safe, whatever it is.” 

“And he didn’t mention—?” 

“No! Like I said… he died. Apparently this woman… thing… whatever it is… enjoys her torture. And he looked like he’d been there for some time.”  

Buffy stood, staring off into space, trying to remember their conversation. 

“Beast!” she said suddenly. 

“A beast?” 

“No… not ‘a’ beast ‘the’ beast. Like a title.” 

“Alright. I suppose that’s a start,” he replied, sounding anything but convinced. “I’ll begin researching. The others can help once they arrive. Why don’t you go home, get some rest? You look like hell, if you don’t mind my saying so.” 

“Thanks, Giles.” 

Buffy left before Giles could determine if it was sincerity or sarcasm that tinged her parting comment, the sound of the bell above the door clanking loudly at her departure.


	2. Chapter 2

“Were you able to find anything, Giles?” Buffy asked as she let herself into the Magic Box later that night. 

“Oh, good! Buffy, come look at this.” 

Giles gestured her over to the table where stacks upon stacks of dusty tomes lay scattered about over every available surface. He pulled his glasses off and wiped wearily at his eyes – the strain of reading for the last few hours without a break had taken its toll.  

“Where is everyone?” 

“Xander and Anya left after the store closed. Willow had a Wiccan gathering and left with Tara not long afterwards.” 

Buffy reached his side and looked down at the books as she stood behind his shoulder.  

“Whatcha’ got?” 

“Here.” 

He handed her a piece of paper that he’d transcribed from a Mayan codex. 

“‘There shall come a time on All Hallow’s Eve, Of a day without night, and a night without day. It is there that the daywalker will, Turn against his kind, Seek knowledge on high to preserve the Key. And defeat the Beast that brings, Hell on Earth,’” she quoted. “What’s it mean?” 

“The first two stanzas are relatively easy enough. It’s referring to Halloween, and what I’m assuming is an eclipse. A _solar_ eclipse, to be precise.”

“A solar eclipse? Those aren’t very common, are they?” 

“No. And I had Willow look up when the next one would be before she left. Coincidently, it’s on October 31st, and best seen in Cozumel.” 

“Cozu-what?” 

“Cozumel. An island off the east coast of Mexico.” 

“You’re saying I have to go to Mexico?” Buffy tried to keep the panic out of her voice. She couldn’t take off on a trip right now – not with the state of her mother’s health up in the air.  

“Buffy…” Giles began. 

“No, Giles. You don’t understand. My mom… she’s… she’s not well. I can’t just leave right now.” 

“Buffy… I’m sorry. But, this is our best chance of defeating this thing... this ‘Beast.’ I’ve searched endlessly, and this is the only reference I’ve managed to come across. And, it’s not like I’m able to postpone a solar eclipse. If it helps, I will check on your mother every day for you while you’re away.” 

Buffy’s shoulders slumped and not even the sight of her boyfriend – whom she’d not spoken with in two days – as he walked into the Magic Shop was enough to pull her from her funk. If anything, his overly-cheerful smile just grated on her nerves. Which were already stretched taut from everything else she was trying to deal with. 

When Riley’s hands clamped down on her shoulders and he pressed a kiss to her cheek, she struggled to control her annoyance. 

“Hey, Buffy… ready to patrol?” 

“Actually… Riley, I’ve got some stuff to do first.” She shrugged free from his grip, attempting to play it off by addressing Giles once more. “So… you’ll check on that thing… see what else you can come up with?” 

“I will continue to decipher it as best I can, but you should plan to make the trip. I can speak with your mother if you would like.” 

“No— I’ll take care of it. I was headed over there now anyway.” She turned back to her boyfriend. “I’m sorry, Riley, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” 

“Yeah… okay.” He sounded anything but thrilled. 

Buffy was out the door a second later, leaving the two men behind, staring at each other for a minute, unsure what to say. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to your books,” Riley told Giles somewhat awkwardly. 

The watcher’s face was equally pained as he sensed the boy’s frustration. 

“A Slayer’s life—” 

“Save it. I don’t need to hear the whole ‘she stands alone’ speech. Catch ya later, Giles.” 

“Erm… well, yes. Good evening then, Riley,” called out, his mind already halfway back on the deciphered codex he’d written. 

Riley walked off without a backward glance, wondering not for the first time if he should have stayed behind in Sunnydale, or left when given the opportunity. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The knock at his crypt door took him by surprise. No one _ever_ knocked. He got up – warily – his booted feet not making a sound as he crept slowly towards the door. 

He really hoped it wasn’t Harmony. It hadn’t been a pretty sight, him giving her the boot after the dream he’d had. She’d finally given in when he threatened her precious unicorns, screaming like a banshee as she rounded up her things and stomped off. 

Sensing the Slayer outside, he paused.  

What was she doing, standing outside his door? And _knocking_ of all things? The Slayer never knocked. He doubted her watcher was even afforded that courtesy. 

But the Slayer, she’d be at the top of the list of people that would barge right in to his makeshift home. His name, shouted in anger, usually to the accompaniment of the door slamming against the interior wall. 

That she stood outside, waiting for him to answer his summons – it warmed his insides, it did. 

Calling himself all kinds of nancified gits, the sudden smile on his face showing no signs of leaving anytime in the near future, Spike opened the door. 

She looked much the same – gorgeous, deadly… _worn_. She was the longest lived Slayer that he’d heard about. Even the one he’d offed, the one that had a kid, hadn’t been as old. She’d just managed to give birth to the boy before being called. Teenage pregnancy… who would have figured?   

It had to wear being the Chosen One – as the years went on. The sacred duty could only last so long before it was time to pass the torch. 

Seeing the Slayer as she was right at this moment, eyes wise beyond her years, Spike could tell it was past time for her. That the situation with both her mother and sister was making it worse. The girl needed to rest, plain and simple. Only she couldn’t. 

“Bu— Slayer?” 

“You got a minute?” 

“Uh… sure.” He stood back and motioned her inside. “Get you something? I think I may have some bottled water around here somewhere.” 

“No thanks.” 

“Well, what can I do for you, Slayer? What brings you to my humble abode?” 

Buffy glanced around at the sparse furnishings. Humble was definitely right.  

Humble was probably a stretch. 

Little did she know that below the crypt, Spike had a bed to die for – satin sheets, the works, a couch, table and chairs… all of the finest quality. All thanks to the goldmine he’d found with the Gem of Amara. 

“I’ve got to go out of town for a few days. I need… could you keep an eye on Dawn for me?” 

Spike was waiting for the floor to give way beneath his feet. Surely the Slayer hadn’t just asked him for his help? 

“Out of town?” he asked, even as he nodded his head in assent. 

“Yes. Apparently I get to go to Cozu-whatever for Halloween.” 

“Cozumel?” 

“That’s the place. It appears the only way to stop the thing after Dawnie is to take a little trip… where I’m supposed to miraculously find the way to defeat her.” 

“And how did you find out about this little tidbit?” 

“Giles. Some Mayan codex or some such. I don’t know. I leave the research-y stuff to him. What I don’t get, though, is why _I_ have to do it? I mean, like I care one way or the other if there’s a damn solar eclipse.” 

“Solar eclipse?” 

“Uh huh. On Halloween apparently. Just like it was spelled out.” 

“Uh… Slayer… I think maybe I should come with you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s a bloody solar eclipse, that’s why!” 

“Still not seeing the point here.”

“You wouldn’t,” he muttered. He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, upsetting the slicked-back locks. “A solar eclipse is like Christmas to a vampire — not for very long, mind. But, just enough that a vamp might catch you off guard.” 

“What are you trying to say?” 

“What am I trying to say?” he asked, incredulous. “Are you being deliberately daft? Daywalkers, Slayer! We turn into daywalkers… at least for a little while. Five… maybe ten minutes… depending on the length of the eclipse.” 

“What did you say?” she whispered. 

“Vamps can move about—” 

“No… the other part.” 

“Daywalkers?” 

“Yes. That’s what the prophecy said. We’ve got to talk to Giles. _Now_. Come on…” 

“But…” 

Seeing her determined look, he reluctantly grabbed his duster and pulled it on, following her out of the crypt.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Giles!” she bellowed, bursting into the Magic Shop, Spike hot on her heels. 

“Good Lord, Buffy! I’m right here.” His startled expression gave way to anger upon spying the vampire lurking behind his slayer. He’d been informed of Spike’s attempts to have his chip removed, how it had almost cost Riley his life. “What’s _he_ doing here?” 

“Spike? I asked him to come.” 

“Why?” 

“Because he mentioned something that I thought might be important. Something about the eclipse.” 

“What about it?” 

“Only that it gives us vamps a bit of a free pass,” Spike told him. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“They turn into ‘ _daywalkers’_ , Giles,” Buffy told him. 

“So… what? Spike thinks _he’s_ the chosen daywalker?” 

“Huh?” Spike’s face showed his confusion, not quite understanding the watcher’s sarcasm. “No… I just offered to go along to watch the Slayer’s back, is all.” 

“He could be,” Buffy answered at the same time. 

“Buffy… surely you don’t think—” 

“He saved my life last night, Giles. I’d probably be dead right now if it weren’t for him.” 

“What? When?” He tore off his glasses and pierced her with a look. 

“Last night. I went back out to clear my head. I’d just found out that whatever was happening to my mom wasn’t mystical. And I needed to think. Spike saved me from a vampire—” 

“Five,” Spike interjected. 

“Right… five vampires.” 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” Buffy asked. 

Giles turned and glared at Spike. “Why did you elect to help her?” 

“Just gettin’ in a spot o’ violence,” Spike shrugged.  

There was no way in hell he was telling the watcher about his recently discovered feelings for the girl, how he’d gone from hating her to loving her; he’d find himself staring at the business end of a stake before he could blink, with no means to defend himself. He may be a fool, but he wasn’t stupid.  

He pulled out a fag and made to light it – perpetuating his Big Bad image – but the watcher’s words stopped him cold. 

“Don’t even think of lighting up that thing in here.”  

Gile’s eyes narrowed at Spike’s smirk and mock salute, but saw that he tucked the cigarette behind his ear. Satisfied no further words needed to be spoken, he turned to Buffy. 

“Buffy—” 

“Look. What’s it going to hurt? He goes with me, and if nothing else, he’ll see to my back.” 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he sighed – clearly his slayer had made up her mind. 

_I hope I do too._  

“Just keep an eye on my mother and Dawn. Hopefully with me being out of town, this thing, whatever it is, won’t be able to connect me to them.” 

“Here.” Giles snagged the piece of paper with the transcribed prophecy and the notes he’d made from the desk and handed it to Buffy. “You’ll probably need this. I’ve contacted the Watcher’s Council. They’re going to pay for your flight there and back, as well as accommodations and a small spending allowance for meals and such. It’s already booked… two tickets.” At her incredulous look, he shrugged. “I thought you’d be taking Riley, so I had them get two.” 

Buffy still didn’t move. 

“What is it, Buffy?” 

“It’s just… the _Council_? _They’re_ the ones picking up the tab?” 

“It didn’t take too much convincing, really.” He grinned conspiratorially. “The words ‘Hell on Earth’ have a way of releasing those tightly-held purse strings.” 

Buffy snorted. 

“Better late than never, I guess. Come on, Spike. I need to pack.” 

“Buffy, do be careful.” 

“Aren’t I always?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Wow! This is pretty swank!” Buffy commented as she took in the view from their suite.  

“’Bout bloody time the Council shelled out some dosh for ya,” he muttered under his breath. Thankfully she hadn’t heard him; she was still staring out the opened window at the panoramic view.  

“Mind if I take this room?”  

“What?” she asked distractedly, finally turning away from the window to look quizzically at her temporary roommate. 

Spike motioned with his duffle towards the bedroom that faced away from the morning sunlight. 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

“Right… then. I’ll just get my stuff unpacked.” _And try not to muck up this up._

He didn’t know whether to kiss the Council’s feet for getting only one suite – albeit one with three bedrooms – or kill them all slowly for putting him so close to temptation. How he’d managed to get the Slayer all to himself, without her ever present GI Joe tagging along, was anyone’s guess. And he wasn’t going to tempt fate by questioning it. 

What was really strange was that the Slayer didn’t seem to mind being alone with him. Heck, even the fact that there’d been only one giant suite reserved in her name hadn’t caused more than one delicate brow lifting ever so slightly as she handed over her passport to the desk clerk. The elevator ride to the fourth floor had been accomplished in silence, neither looking at the other. The slight ping as they’d reached each new level seemed overly-loud in the tiny space. 

Spike had been grateful when the doors had finally slid open and he’d escaped into the hall. He’d trudged off in the direction of their room, unwilling to bring up the rear and be forced to watch the gentle sway of her hips as she walked. There was only _so_ much a vamp could take. 

She’d opened the door and gasped, and Spike swore the sound had gone straight to his dick. It was a good thing he’d been holding his duffle in front of him; he’d given up wearing his duster so as not to draw undue attention – a long leather coat being worn in mid-eighty degree weather would make even the most clueless person look at him rather funny.  

The bag had kept him from embarrassing himself… and her. 

Though, he really hadn’t cause to worry, because she’d only had eyes for the windows that dominated one whole side of the suite, and the spectacular view that enabled one to see the ocean, and how it seemed to go on and on in the distance.  

Buffy mumbled her assent, her eyes already returning to the sliding glass window. The suite came with a small balcony, complete with iron mesh bistro table and two chairs. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. 

Right down to the company. 

Spike had been quiet for most of the flight, not feeling it necessary to fill the silence with meaningless chatter. Instead, he’d pulled out a well-worn book and read most of the way.  

She’d spent her time watching him. Trying to figure out what made him tick. And why he was being so anti-Spike-like of a sudden. 

Then there was her own behavior to consider. If he was being anti-Spike, she was definitely being anti-Buffy. 

First there was her startling confession. Something not even her watcher was aware of. Then, the leaving behind of her boyfriend and instead shacking up with her enemy – and not even caring that they would be sleeping not ten feet apart from each other. 

Maybe the super strong skank had addled her brains. After all, she’d done a header, or four, into the abandoned warehouse walls thanks to the bitch. 

“Here you go, Slayer.” 

Buffy was startled out of her reverie and turned to see Spike standing there, holding out a glass to her. She eyed the glass speculatively. 

“You trying to get me drunk?” she asked, seeing the type of glass he held, if not the contents. 

Spike snorted. 

“Not unless you can’t hold your water.” 

He grinned and Buffy found her lips turning up at the corner, unable to prevent her own answering smile.  

“Thanks.”  

Buffy took a sip, thinking to be polite, but ended up finishing off the whole glass in a few short gulps, not realizing how thirsty she was.  

Apparently Spike had.

It was eerie, the things he knew about her, could sense about her. If he wasn’t chipped and unable to harm her in any way, it would be cause for alarm. Even now, his uncanny ability to read her should have given her the major wiggins. Instead, she was oddly comforted by his perception, how he looked after her without coming across as overbearing. 

Like Riley did. Or tried to do, anyway. 

Beneath the table, Buffy used her foot to push out the remaining chair, a silent invitation for the vampire to sit. 

“Ta, luv.” 

Spike lounged in the chair, staring out across the balcony to the beach below. 

“Got any ideas of this ‘on high’ place we’re supposed to be looking for?” he asked after a time. 

“Giles thinks it’s one of two places. Either the lighthouse at the northern end of the island, or Castillo Real. He’s leaning more towards Castillo Real since it’s of Mayan descent… and apparently this prophecy is from some Mayan codex.” 

“I can go take a look around. It’s still several hours before daylight.” 

Buffy shook her head. “No. We can do it tomorrow. I think we can hit both places in one night, don’t you?” 

“Island’s small enough… yeah… don’t think it should be too hard. Any idea what we’re looking for?” 

“A sign that says ‘X marks the spot’?” 

Spike gave a bark of laughter. 

“Would make matters rather simple,” he agreed. 

“Yeah.” She sighed wistfully, knowing that nothing was ever that easy – at least not with her. 

“You should probably get some rest, Slayer. You look like you haven’t slept in days.” 

“Is that your way of saying I look like crap?” 

“No… I like my nose just where it is. You look tired, is all. And, if we’re not going to play tourist tonight, you should take advantage and relax.” 

Buffy opened her mouth to argue, but closed it at his next words. 

“They’ve got a Jacuzzi bath.” 

“Really?” she whispered, something akin to awe in her voice. 

“See for yourself.” 

“Maybe a hot bath _would_ be good.” 

Buffy got to her feet and walked the short distance to the sliding glass door. It was on the tip of her tongue to thank him for looking out for her, for forcing her to take better care of herself. Instead, she slipped silently inside the suite and walked to the bedroom she’d chosen to retrieve her nightclothes and toiletries.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike was watching television when Buffy reemerged from the bathroom. She made a quick trip to her room to drop off her dirty clothes, then joined him on the couch – not close enough to touch, but no so that they were on opposite ends either. She didn’t question the abrupt one-eighty their relationship had taken; baring one’s soul tending to remove the barriers of mortal enemies. Though she had to admit, Spike’s behavior was unlike any enemy she’d ever come across; he was acting more like a long-lost friend. 

No snarky remarks. Just a quiet presence in her life. 

“What are you watching?” 

“Nothing really, just flippin’ through the channels. Something you wanna see?” 

“No… I don’t watch a lot of TV.” 

“Guess with your slayin’ and school, your time’s pretty much taken, huh?” 

“Yeah.” She sighed and glanced at Spike. “I’m thinking about dropping out of college. With mom being sick…and then there’s Dawnie. It was a pipe dream anyway…” 

Spike debated moving closer to the Slayer. The girl could definitely use a shoulder to lean on, perhaps even to cry on. But theirs was an uneasy truce and any untoward action on his part would probably be met with a fist to his much-abused nose. So he sat there, one eye on her, the other on the screen that was touting the latest exercise gimmick. 

“Don’t think you’re mum would like to hear of you doin’ that, Slayer. I know she was pretty proud that you were go—” 

Buffy swiveled on the couch to stare at Spike. “What—?” 

“Bloody hell,” he groaned at the same time. He could have kicked himself for bringing an end to their temporary truce. As soon as the Slayer found out he was keeping company with Joyce, she’d be back on the defensive, and the relaxed, almost pleasant person that he’d shared time with these last two days would be but a memory. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?” he asked hopefully. He sighed and shook his head. “Yeah… I didn’t think so. Look... didn’t mean any harm, Slayer. Joyce was lonely, what with you being away at college. I’d stop by from time to time, have a nice cuppa and a chat. Nothin’ to get your knickers in a twist about.” 

“And you guys talked about me?” Buffy didn’t know whether to be offended, hurt, or pleased. 

“No!” he rushed to reassure her. “Not like that. Just in general. She’s damn proud of you, pet. And, it’s not like she can share with her mates that you’re the Slayer… and that you manage to attend classes and still save the day on a regular basis. With me… well…” 

“She can,” Buffy concluded. 

“And ‘s not like I can turn down a spot of cocoa. She even puts these li’l marshmallows in it.” 

Buffy grinned. “I suppose I’ll let you off the hook, just this once.” 

Spike quirked his brow at her. 

“What? Her hot chocolate is the best. I’d listen to her harp on at me to clean my room if I had a cup of hot chocolate in front of me at the time. I guess being forced to hear her gush about me probably has the same effect.” 

_Not bloody likely._

But he didn’t tell her that. 

He was still wrapping his mind around the fact that he was in love with the Slayer. Couldn’t have her staking him because she didn’t take too well to the idea of her once mortal enemy now feeling anything other than a deep loathing for her. He’d have to listen to her speech about him being evil and soulless, and how a monster like him couldn’t possibly have feelings – especially love. 

That conversation would require a lot more than Joyce’s cocoa in order for him to sit through it without complaint. 

By some unspoken agreement, the two turned back towards the television. Spike resumed his channel surfing, finally deciding on a comedy playing on one of the movie channels – the Slayer was due for a bit of laughter. 

An hour into the movie, Spike felt her slump against his arm as she drifted off to sleep. He forced himself not to move and perhaps startle her awake in the process, though his arms ached to pull her onto his lap and cradle her against his chest. The scent of her shampoo teased his senses, his arm burned where her face pressed against his bicep.  

It was torture of the worst sort… and it was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike felt the person lying on his chest shift slightly. Eyes closed, not ready to wake up, he muttered a complaint, and his arms tightened their hold, unwilling to lose the heat box keeping him warm. Not even the uncomfortable position he was in was enough to make him give up his prize. 

Thankfully his bedmate was of the same opinion, who snuggled closer and stilled, content to lie there and be held by him. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy let herself back into the suite, her arms laden with groceries for both Spike and herself, trying not to disturb the vampire still sleeping on the couch. She watched as he switched from his back to his side, but other than that, did not stir. 

It had been a shock when she’d woken a few hours ago to find herself sprawled over Spike. Oddly enough, it had been one of the best night’s rest she’d had in a long while – not having been plagued with unsettling dreams, or the more common restlessness, typifying her sleeping patterns. That it had been the chipped vampire responsible, well, it just added one more thing to the mystique known as Spike.

She’d obviously fallen asleep sometime during the movie, him too. They’d both been fully clothed. And he’d not taken advantage; all of her buttons were still buttoned, the hands holding her were resting lightly on her back. Even his cock – which she couldn’t help but make out the outline since her stomach was lying so intimately against it – had lain dormant. He’d obviously been asleep, deeply asleep. 

Either that, or she just didn’t do it for him. 

Praying all the while not to wake him, she’d carefully extracted herself from his hold and escaped to her room, where she threw on a tank top and a pair of shorts and snagged a pair of flip flops. She’d paused only long enough to grab one of the key cards to the door before escaping on bare feet. 

Since then, her mind had been plagued with thoughts of the vampire… and thoughts of Riley. Finding herself comparing the two as she’d walked along the beach.  

It had been a revelation of sorts, one in which she determined her feelings for Riley, or lack thereof. How her boyfriend couldn’t handle her being the Slayer. Not really. His clinginess – something that she’d mistaken for affection – and his constant need to protect her. Like she wasn’t capable of doing it herself. Then there was the real reason she was with him: her friends, and what they felt she should have in a relationship. Only problem with that was she wasn’t normal, would never _be_ normal. 

With Spike… 

What was it about Spike? She would like to say vampires in general, but knew that wasn’t the case. There was something about the peroxide pest. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something that had gotten her thinking of him after he’d stormed out of Sunnydale, leaving her to pick up the pieces of Willow and Xander’s betrayal of their respective boyfriend and girlfriend, and her own twisted relationship with Angel. 

He was annoying as hell and evil to the core, and never missed an opportunity to remind anyone of the fact. Yet, in the last two days he’d been a protector, a confidant, an ally… _and_ a cuddly pillow.  

He’d been a friend. 

The thought had drawn her up short; she’d stood there on the beach, her gaze unconsciously seeking out the window of their room, knowing he was still sleeping on the couch, safe behind the drawn curtains. 

Now, as she set the pamphlets down on the counter and rummaged in the bag for something to munch on, Buffy couldn’t help but marvel at how she and Spike had changed from the mortal enemies they’d been, to actually getting along. 

She took a bite from an apple and set about putting the meager groceries she’d purchased away in the fridge. Forgetting the loud crunch would most likely wake the vampire. 

It did, and she watched him bolt upright on the couch and hone in on the sound, offering him a guilty wave once he spied her standing in the kitchen. 

“Blood?” she asked, holding up a container in her hands. 

Spike relaxed his rigid stance and ran a hand through his hair, trying to process why he was still on the couch. His eyes strayed towards the container the Slayer held and his mouth began to water. 

He nodded and climbed to his feet. 

“I am a bit peckish…”  

Buffy went through the motions of pouring him a mug of blood and warming it in the microwave, pulling it out and handing it to him once the machine chimed. 

“Ta, luv.”  

Buffy inclined her head to acknowledge his thanks and finished off her apple. 

“Oh! I picked up some brochures… on the island… tours and stuff.” 

Spike finished off his mug and rinsed it out in the sink, leaving Buffy to eye him with astonishment. He saw it and grinned.  

“Your mum doesn’t like blood stains. I learned early on to clean it out. One axe to the head was more than enough…” He held out his hand. “Let’s have us a look then.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I think it’ll be here,” Buffy commented as the two walked around the temple, with her beaming the flashlight along the walls so she could see. 

“Have to agree with you, Slayer.” He didn’t mention that this was the better of the two locations, at least as far as his demon was concerned. After the eclipse was over, he was in for a long wait until the sun finally set, and Castillo Real afforded him several places to while away the time with relative protection. “Come on… let’s get back. This place closed at five, and I don’t want to get caught by the locals and have this thing bollocksed up before it’s even begun.” 

The two retraced their steps over the rugged terrain to where Spike had parked the four-wheeled drive Jeep they’d rented. When Buffy tripped over a rock and would have gone face first into the ground, he was there to catch her. 

“Sorry, luv. Forgot your eyesight’s not as good as mine. Here, take my hand.” 

And she did.  

A jolt went through her at the contact, and her heart, already racing from her near miss, kicked up another notch. If Spike sensed it, he offered no comment as he led them away from the Mayan ruin. 

At the Jeep, they reluctantly parted ways. Spike was half-tempted to walk the Slayer to her side of the car and open it for her, unwilling to let go of her hand before he absolutely had to. 

The ride back to the hotel was accomplished in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.  

For Buffy, she found that being alone with Spike enabled her to see him in a new light. The way he acted was different than when he was surrounded by her friends and watcher, and she had to wonder if this is the way he behaved with her mom. 

Probably. 

Her mom wouldn’t put up with anything less than their best behavior from her guests. And by the way Spike talked, he was a frequent visitor to her home. A vision of her mom wielding an axe demanding the vamp behave himself caused her to give a bark of laughter, disrupting their quiet ride. 

“Wanna let me in on the joke, Slayer?” 

“Nothing…” She giggled again seeing his disgruntled look. The fleeting thought of how adorable he looked with his bottom lip jutted out crossed her mind – and caused her cheeks to pinken.  

Adorable? Spike?  

Where had _that_ thought come from?  

She was never more grateful for them to reach their hotel than she was at that moment. Revealing the reason for her mirth was more than she wanted to tackle just then… if ever.  

The Slayer was out of the Jeep and halfway up the walk when Spike called out. 

“Hey… Slayer…” 

She stopped and turned around, one brow quirked in inquiry. 

“You… uh… wanna get a bite to eat?” 

Buffy couldn’t help it, she burst into laughing. 

“A bite to eat?” she chortled. “Oh, Spike!” 

“Well… you know what I mean,” he grinned sheepishly. “There’s a place not far from here…” he added hopefully. 

“Sure… why not?” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

For the second night in a row, Buffy and Spike were sitting on the couch watching television – a romantic comedy that the Slayer had never seen. 

Spike suffered through it; most of his attention was on the girl sitting next to him anyway. The way she smiled at something funny, the wistful sigh she expelled during a particularly sappy moment… it pleased him to see her relaxed and enjoying herself. 

Amazing what a few thousand miles could do for her disposition, he thought. It was like he was with a completely different person. And he knew he was seeing a side of the Slayer she rarely – if ever – revealed to the others. At least since her breakup with Angel. 

Buffy could feel Spike watching her and she employed every calming exercise Giles had taught her to keep him from sensing how it was affecting her. How she longed to lean into his side and have his arm drape around her shoulder. 

It was the locale that was doing it. Drop her into a place with sandy beaches, beautiful scenery, nothing to worry about – at least not until tomorrow during the eclipse – and she was filled with romantic ideas. Spike was just the one unfortunate enough to be alone with her, making him the likely source for her to project her fanciful notions upon. 

At least that’s what she tried to fool herself into believing. 

He’d been a perfect gentleman at dinner, keeping her surprisingly entertained with stories of his travels – the places he’d seen, though not the people he killed, thankfully. It had been the waiter informing of them of the restaurant’s closing that had made her realize how long they’d been there. 

Two hours they’d sat there, talking about nothing… and everything. 

She sighed, and wasn’t surprised when Spike asked after her welfare. He was too perceptive by half these days. Or, he’d always been, but had never shown it before. 

“Something wrong, Slayer?” 

“Buffy.” 

“Whatsit?” 

“My name is Buffy, Spike. I think after today… well… just call me Buffy, okay?” 

_Why is he looking at me as if I’d just given him the keys to the pearly kingdom?_

_Maybe because you’ve been nothing but a bitch to him before now,_ her inner-voice mocked back. 

“Alright… Buffy.” Spike coughed to cover his embarrassment. “So… uh… enjoying the movie?” 

“It’s okay, I guess. Bit far-fetched, but then you watch television to escape reality, right?” 

Spike turned back to the screen to see the two leads kiss as the screen faded to black and the credits started to roll. 

“I don’t know, S— Buffy. I think everyone can have a happy ever after if you want it bad enough…” He didn’t look at her while he gave his little speech, knowing if he did so that she’d be able to see right through him. See how much he loved her. That this time he had alone with her was like his own piece of heaven.  

He stood and passed her the remote. 

“Gonna get a bit of kip since I’m gonna be up most of the day.” 

“Alright.” 

Buffy’s eyes trailed after him as he walked away. His door clicked shut and she turned around to stare blindly at the screen in front of her, her mind playing over what he’d said. 

It was a long while before she roused herself enough to go to bed. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The second the moon completely covered the sun, Spike and Buffy burst from the cover of the trees and started running headlong towards the Mayan ruin. Even with her Slayer speed, Spike reached the top long before her. 

They had maybe five minutes before the moon continued its arc in the sky and the eclipse ended. Splitting up, the two went over every stone, every carving. 

“Anything?” Buffy called out. 

“No!” Spike yelled back. 

The Slayer paused in her search to stare out one of the naturally occurring windows of the temple that sat atop the pyramid of stairs. 

“The sun’s starting to come out!” she cried. 

“Keep looking.” 

Buffy turned away and continued to look for something that would reveal the Demon’s destruction. When Spike screamed suddenly, it felt like time began to move in slow motion. 

She looked over to see a tiny beam of sunlight boring into the back of his head. His hand lifted instinctively to the source of his pain and immediately began smoking. 

“Get out of the sun!” she screamed as she ran towards him. 

Thankfully his survival instincts kicked in and she watched him drop to the floor and hide in the shadows.  

“Are you alright?” She dropped to her knees beside him and began checking him over for injuries. 

“Bloody hell!” he growled. “Damn eclipse was supposed to last longer than that!” 

“Tell me where you’re hurt,” she talked over him. 

“’m fine. Head’s a bit singed… hand too.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah… I’ve had worse. Spot o’ blood, I’ll be as good as new.” Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. “Buffy… look.” 

Buffy stared at the wall suddenly illuminated by the sun’s rays. 

“What is it?” 

“Look like some type of hieroglyphics…” 

Buffy stood and moved closer.  

“Did you bring something to write with?” she asked. 

“Here.”  

Spike held out the notepad he’d swiped from the suite, along with a pencil. Buffy walked back and took it. 

“I failed art class,” she told him as she began copying the series of pictures down. “I just hope Giles can figure out my doodling.” 

“You want me to do it?” he asked. He’d come up behind her, careful to stay out of the sunlight streaming into the temple. 

“You mind?” 

“Nah… here… gimme that.” 

Buffy handed the pad of paper over gratefully and stood at Spike’s elbow while the pencil flew over the sheet, capturing the pictures as best he could. 

“Hurry… the sun is shifting…” 

Spike’s fingers worked furiously, trying to beat out the sun. 

“There!” he exclaimed triumphantly.  

“You got ‘em?” 

His grin said it all. 

“Guess we’ve got a bit of time on our hands before the sun goes down.” 

“Guess so.” 

“Think any of the vamps having a free-for-all got dusted?” she asked, sitting down in the shade and leaning back against the wall. 

“Prolly.” 

Spike took off his duster and rolled it into a ball. He lay down next to her and rested his head on the balled-up leather. His eyes closed and he settled in to wait. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Buffy asked. 

“Just sleepy is all. The sun’s like turkey to us vamps… makes us sleepy.” 

“Oh. How’s your head? Still hurt?” 

“Hurt worse when your mum bludgeoned me over the head with an axe. I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re sure?”  

“Yeah, luv. Told you… bit of blood and I’ll heal up quick enough.” 

Buffy stared enviously at Spike, who looked well on his way to drifting off to sleep. She’d like nothing more than to lie down beside him and catch a few zees too. It had been a late night for her, followed by an early morning. 

She shifted her back against the wall, trying to get comfortable, grumbling under her breath when she couldn’t. 

“Tryin’ to sleep here, Buffy,” he complained. 

“Aren’t you the lucky one,” she muttered. 

“You could join me. Dirt gives a bit of cushion over the stone…” 

“I’m fine.” 

“No you’re not. You’re tired… which makes you cranky. Come on… I won’t bite… unless you ask me to.” 

Buffy saw the smile on his face and felt the corners of her mouth tug upward. 

“Like that’ll ever happen.” 

Spike didn’t take exception to her words. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell that she was teasing him. He was surprised, however, when he heard her move to lie down next to him. 

“I don’t have a pillow,” she complained. 

“Your pillow, m’lady,” he told her as he swept his arm to the side. 

“Why thank you, kind sir.” 

He’d thought that nothing could top last night, how she’d given him leave to call her by name. But now, as she lay there next to him, her head propped on his outstretched arm, he knew he was truly in heaven. 

~*~*~*~*~  

Spike woke to the sound of crickets chirping. 

It took him a second to remember where he was and who he was with. Though, feeling the Slayer curled against his side, one leg thrown over his, her head lying on his chest, he wondered why it had taken him that long.  

He couldn’t prevent his hand from trailing down her arm, or the press of his lips against her forehead. She shifted in his embrace, and he pulled back as if scalded – the slight jarring motion finally waking her. 

“Mornin’, Buffy,” he greeted warily, mentally congratulating himself on how his voice didn’t waiver. 

“Morning?” 

“Well… evening really. Sun set about an hour ago.” 

“How can you tell?” she asked him as she sat up. She felt oddly rested, given that her mattress was a stone slab and her pillow a vampire’s arm. 

Spike tapped his nose. 

“One of a vamp’s perks. Plus, bein’ around so long, I’ve gotten real good at tellin’ time.” 

He stood up, grabbing his duster as he did so. 

“We should go.” Spike helped the Slayer to her feet and reluctantly released her hand so he could put his coat back on.  

“Spike,” Buffy called out after he’d taken a step towards the exit. 

He stopped and turned to see her just standing there. 

“Oh… Right! Sorry, luv. Here… gimme your hand.” 

“Thanks,” she whispered. 

“My fault. Forgot again that you couldn’t see as well as me.” 

The two retraced their steps from the previous night and before long they were back at the Jeep.  

“What time’s our flight leave?”  

“Eleven. Plenty of time to grab our stuff, eat, and get to the airport,” he told her. 

“Oh. Ok.” 

_Was it wrong for her to have wanted another day alone with Spike?_


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy and Spike had no sooner climbed into Giles’ car than Buffy stretched out on the back seat and went back to sleep. The lateness of their arrival back into Sunnydale and the time zone change put their being up literally all night.  

Giles, his eyes peering in the rearview mirror, opened his mouth to question Buffy as to the success of their mission. 

“Let her sleep,” Spike told him. “Slayer’s knackered.” 

“Yes… I suppose you’re right.” 

“We found what we needed,” the vampire offered. “How’s your Mayan, by the way…” 

“I think I can muddle through.” 

“Drop the slayer off, and I’ll give you a hand. Didn’t get a proper look see, was too busy scribblin’ before it disappeared, but it seemed pretty straightforward.” 

“You read Mayan?” 

“Been around a long time, Rupert. And, t’weren’t like we had cable back then. Needed something to do to amuse myself while I was cooped up.” 

“Alright. Maybe a second set of eyes will help.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“A god? Are… are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m bloody sure. You would be too, if you looked at the thing and quit tryin’ to make excuses.” 

“How do we stop a god?” Giles whispered. 

“’m getting’ to that. Now, if you’re not gonna help, bugger off and let me get back to it.” 

“Does it… the Beast… have a name?” 

Spike looked up from the text he was reading. 

“Glorificus. Glory. Take your pick. Why don’t you see if you can find something on the bint? Or better yet, give those wankers in London a call. I’m sure they’ll have something about her.” 

Giles did a mental calculation of the time difference and nodded. 

“Rupert Giles here. I need to speak with Quentin Travers please.” He was placed on hold for a moment and had the pleasure of listening to the crackling of the intercontinental connection while he waited to be rung through. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Giles. Mr. Travers is in a meeting and is not to be disturbed.” 

“I don’t care if he’s in a bloody meeting or not! This is a matter of utmost urgency!” Giles barked into the phone. 

“Tell ‘em lives hang in the balance,” Spike snarked from his chair. 

Giles frowned at the vampire and listened with half an ear as the woman went on and on. Exasperated, he finally interrupted her. 

“Very well then. If you would rather not bother our illustrious Head Councilman with the news that there’s a hellgod in our dimension and here on the Hellmouth, I can certainly understand. Good day.” He hung up the phone none too gently. 

“That’s tellin’ ‘em, Rupes!” 

“Oh do shut up, Spike.” 

“Wot! I’m on your side, you ungrateful wanker.” 

“A thought which troubles me immensely.” 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why does the thought of me helpin’ you out trouble you? ‘s not like I haven’t done it before.” 

“That was usually for… for payment… or to serve your own interests.” 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, stoppin’ this hellgod _is_ servin’ my own interests. I happen to _like_ the Earth the way it is.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Might I remind you that it was Angelus that wanted to suck us into that hell dimension? Not me. And if I remember right, _I’m_ the one that kept your arse in one piece…” 

“For which I’ve yet to thank you.” 

“Ta, mate.” 

“I was _being_ facetious.” 

Giles moved off towards the stacks to find a few books that might mention dimensional gods. 

“Shoulda’ just let the Pouf torture you to death,” he muttered under his breath. 

“I heard that,” Giles called out from across the room. 

The phone rang as Giles walked back to the table with three large leather-bound books in his hands. He set them down on the cluttered surface and crossed to where the phone sat on the counter. He was in no hurry, knowing instinctively who it was.  

His parting shot to the secretary had apparently done the trick, and Travers had managed to get off his arse and call him back. 

“Good morning. Thank you for calling the Magic Box.” 

“Rupert, this is Quentin Travers. What’s this nonsense I hear of a hellgod running loose in Sunnydale?” 

“So good of you to ring me back, Quentin. Sorry I pulled you from whatever you thought was more important than the possible end of the world.” 

Giles looked over to see Spike biting his lip to keep from laughing. His own eyes were twinkling merrily, he was sure. It felt pretty good twisting the screws to the old codger. He listened quietly as the man droned on for a bit about commitments and such, until he finally had enough and cut him off. 

“I need everything you can get me on a Glorificus… or Glory. And make it quick. Something tells me we don’t have a lot of time.” 

It felt good hanging up on Travers; it gave him a bounce to his step that the copious amounts of tea he’d consumed throughout the remainder of the night had been unable to do for him. 

“And you call me evil,” Spike snorted. 

“Sanctimonious old git had it coming.” 

“Uh huh.” 

The two still had their heads buried in books when Riley let himself in the shop not long after Anya opened for the day. 

“What is _he_ doing here?” Riley demanded of Giles, indicating Spike. 

Spike barely managed to tamp down the growl that threatened to erupt from deep in his chest. He was overly tired, having been up long after he should have been sleeping. Straining to decipher the Mayan writings he and Buffy had discovered only added to his feeling of exhaustion. Suffering a migraine because he couldn’t refrain from taking a shot at Buffy’s boyfriend wasn’t high on his priority list. 

“I’m done, watcher. Pictures are starting to blur anyway.” 

“You don’t have to leave, Spike.” 

“Nah, ‘s alright… I’m gonna catch a few hours kip. I’ll be back once the sun goes down.” 

“Very well. I’ll see you then.” 

Spike pushed his chair back and stood, quickly departing the shop through the back door and escaping into the sewer tunnels. 

“Is there something you wanted, Riley?” Giles asked once the vampire was gone. 

“I came to see Buffy.” 

“She’s not here. She’s probably still at home. Sleeping, I gather. Her flight got in very early this morning.” 

“No one answered when I went by there. I figured she’d come here.” 

“No… she hasn’t. As I said, she’s probably still sleeping and didn’t hear the doorbell. I’m sure she’ll be by later in the day.” 

“What’s with you and Spike?” Riley asked, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me you actually trust him to help.” 

Giles sighed and pulled off his glasses, throwing them on top of the book he’d been reading. He rubbed wearily at his eyes. Truth be told, he should have followed the vampire’s example and gone home to get some sleep – hours ago, in fact. But, he couldn’t make himself leave as long as Spike was still there and willing to help. 

“Look, Riley. Spike’s harmless. You and your... your outfit saw to that.” 

“He’s a monster. He should be put down.” 

“I think that’s for Buffy to decide.” 

Riley snorted. Spike was a bone of contention in his and Buffy’s relationship. He just didn’t see why she wouldn’t stake him. In the last few days, she’d become adamant that the vampire be left alone. Finding out that Spike was going with her to Cozumel – and without him – had sparked a fight that had her storming away in anger, unwilling to discuss it further, the fate of their relationship on rocky ground. It was why he’d wanted to see Buffy as soon as she’d gotten back.  

To make sure that she was okay. That _they_ were okay. 

Seeing the blond menace that was a constant thorn in his side had brought it all home – his and Buffy’s argument, her distance. 

He was half tempted to make a stop by Spike’s crypt and reiterate how much the vampire was not welcome around Buffy and her friends. 

“When Buffy gets here, tell her I stopped by and will be back later.” 

Giles watched Riley leave and hoped that Spike had safeguards in place to alert him to anyone’s approach. He didn’t trust the gleam in the ex-soldier’s eyes. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike didn’t go back to his crypt. He’d not liked the way Riley had looked at him – like he was planning how best to stake him. Instead, against his better judgment, he made his way through the sewers to the house on Revello Drive. 

The elder Summers wasn’t due to leave for the gallery for at least thirty minutes. She wouldn’t mind if he crashed in her basement for the day. 

He jumped out of the manhole and stuck to the shade as he hurried through her back yard. His jacket was starting to smolder when he burst through the kitchen door and slammed it shut behind him. 

“Spike!” Joyce cried. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” 

“Sorry, mum.” He patted himself down, making sure he still had all his parts, heaving a sigh when everything appeared to be in place. “Mind if I crash on the cot in the basement? Slayer’s boyfriend didn’t take to seein’ me helpin’ her watcher out.” 

“Sure. I’m about to leave for work. You can see yourself down?” 

“Yes. Thanks, mum. Be careful at work… don’t overdo it.” 

“ _I’m_ the mother, Spike.” 

“Yeah… well…” He shuffled his feet, feeling like a ponce. “Slayer worries about you, is all.” 

“I’ll be fine. But it’s nice to know someone’s thinking about me.” 

Joyce waved goodbye and walked down the hallway and out the front door, leaving Spike alone in the house with the Slayer. 

He debated with himself whether or not to peek in on her, before finally deciding against it, not wanting to chance waking her. She’d been tired when they dropped her off from the airport. 

The cot was a lot less comfortable than the bed in his crypt, but it didn’t matter. He’d sleep on the floor if it meant being in the Slayer’s house. Wearing nothing but jeans and wrapped in a blanket, Spike closed his eyes and was quickly asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy opened the door to the basement and walked down the steps, the basket of dirty clothes held in front of her. Since finding out about her mom’s health problems, she’d been trying to help out more around the house. It had been that thought in mind that had made her decide to move back home in the first place. 

The stairs creaked beneath her feet, unwittingly waking the vampire who’d been zonked on the cot. 

“Buffy?” 

The basket in her hand went flying and she almost followed it. Only her quick reflexes enabled her to grab onto the rail at the last second. 

“ _Spike_?!” 

Spike jumped up from the cot, eyeing the Slayer’s clothes scattered all over the floor. He averted his eyes from the tiny scraps of unmentionables, not wanting to appear a pervert, instead concentrating on her. Her heart was hammering away inside her chest and an apology was already forming on his lips. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Sorry, Buffy,” he said at the same time. “Your mum said I could crash here. Had a run in a few hours ago with your boy to– erm… boyfriend.” 

“Riley?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What was Riley doing at your crypt?” 

“T’weren’t the crypt. Rupert and I were trying to decipher the Mayan drawings at his shop. He showed up there, looking for you. Didn’t seem too happy to see me. So, I figured I’d bed down here, let him cool off a bit. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s okay. I just thought I was home alone. You know, Dawn at school, mom at work.” 

She came down off the steps and started to pick up the clothes lying about, replacing them in the hamper. 

“Should I wait… you know… to run the washer? Is it going to disturb you?” 

_Not nearly as much as the thought of being home alone with you does_ , he thought. 

“Nah. I’m good. Passions is getting ready to come on anyway.” 

“You watch soap operas?” 

“It’s a bloody good show, pet. Don’t knock it.” 

“Uh huh.” Her tone implied she didn’t believe him. 

“I’ll let you get started down here. You can join me upstairs… if you want.” 

“Ok.” 

“Have you eaten? Can I fix you something?” 

Buffy turned away from the washing machine to stare incredulously at the vampire. 

“You _cook_?” 

“A bit. But, it’s not too hard makin’ a sandwich… or whatever.” 

“Yeah… okay. Ham sandwich?” 

“Lettuce, tomato, cheese?” 

“Don’t forget the pickles.” 

“Ah… right. Pickles. See you upstairs then.” 

Buffy stared at his retreating back, just now realizing that he wore nothing but a pair of jeans. Who would have figured that his duster hid such salty goodness? It should have been against the laws of nature for a vamp to look like that – hard angles and wiry muscles – and not an ounce of fat to be seen.   

She should have guessed, given how she’d damn near slept on top of him back when they’d been trapped for the rest of the afternoon inside that Mayan temple. 

_‘Bad thoughts, Buffy. You have a boyfriend,’_ she reminded herself. 

One who was increasingly getting on her nerves, true. But… he _was_ still her boyfriend. For the time being. Though if she were to find out that Riley was going behind her back to mess with Spike against her express wishes, it was a strong possibility he was going to quickly wind up in the ex column. 

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

“This isn’t half bad,” Buffy commented around a mouthful of food, her eyes glued to the screen. 

“Told you it was a good show.” 

“I meant the sandwich. But, the show’s not half bad either. With you, one can never be too sure. Especially given your taste in music.” 

“What’s wrong with my bloody taste in music?” 

“It’s _bloody_ awful,” she teased. 

“No worse than that milk toast, boy band, I-wish-my-voice-would-change shite you listen to.” 

“N’sync has some good songs.” 

Spike snorted. 

“Please. Bunch of preppy mama’s boys that think a few hip thrusts constitutes dancin’. Maybe if they had their own music and quit samplin’ everyone else’s I might be inclined to agree that they’ve got a decent set of pipes… a few of them anyway.” 

“You’re just jealous because people can actually dance to my kind of music. Whereas your type just slams into one another and thinks it’s fun.” 

“Nothin’ wrong with a bit o’ violence now and then.” 

“I’ll save the bloodshed for cemeteries and the like, thank you very much.” 

A knock at the front door interrupted their debate. Buffy got up and answered it, shocked to see who stood on her porch. 

“Riley!” she gasped. 

“Buffy! Hey.” he greeted, stepping inside and enveloping her in a hug. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Uh… I… uh…” she patted his back, hoping he didn’t pick up on her lack of enthusiasm. Now if she could only get him to let her go… 

She could hear Spike dart behind the couch, trying not to be seen.

“Hey…. I was just getting ready to go to the Magic Box to see how Giles was coming with that translation. Come on… you can join me.” She pulled his arm, dragging him back out the front door, and far away from where Spike hid in her living room. Explaining his presence wasn’t something she wanted to get into just yet – though, it would have to happen, and soon. 

“Aren’t you going to get the TV?” 

“Oh… yeah… one sec.” 

She flew into the house and nearly broke the television she punched the off button so hard. Spike was ducked down behind a table in the corner and she paused long enough to give him a half-hearted smile before darting back out the front door. 

“Uh… Buffy… your shoes?” Riley commented. 

“Oh! Right! Shoes.” 

When she returned the second time, an overly-bright smile on her face, Riley was looking at her quizzically. 

“Are you alright, Buffy?” 

“I’m fine! A little hyper from all the sleep, I think. That and the super strong pot of coffee mom made. Maybe I’ll make use of the training room, get rid of some excess energy.” 

“I could help you with that…” 

“No! I… I’m…that is… you know….”   

She gave him a pained look which Riley easily translated as her “I’m on my period” face. He shuddered, unable to keep the revulsion from twisting his features. It squicked him out just thinking of doing that when she — and then the blood. Ugh. 

“Sorry…” She shrugged her shoulders, not sorry in the least. 

It was a quiet walk to the Magic Box. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the Slayer and the ex-soldier move off down the walkway. It grated that he had to hide like some coward because he couldn’t properly defend himself, and not for the first time he wished the chip would quit working. 

It wasn’t like he’d go back to killing. Having realized his feelings for the Slayer, he didn’t want to put her in the position of having to stake him. She’d suffered enough when Angelus made a return appearance and reduced her life to a living hell.  

But he was tired of seeming like a wuss in her and the other’s eyes. With his rocks back, he could tell Captain Cardboard a thing or two. Could tell all of them that William the Bloody was back and was through being mocked and ridiculed. 

No more kick the Spike. 

He flopped back onto the couch and reached for the remote. He still had time to kill yet before he was due back at the watcher’s shop.  

Not even a minute had passed before he stood and turned off the television a smirk twisting his lips. Nothing said he couldn’t go back early. 

And since the Slayer was going to be there, she could keep Soldier Boy in line and away from him. 

Smiling, he hurried down to the basement to grab his discarded clothes. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Oh! Buffy! Hello.” 

“Hey, Giles.” Buffy took in his haggard appearance and frowned. “Have you been up all night?” she asked him once she reached the table. 

“Er… yes. I was going to go home once Spike left, but then the Council rang…” 

His ominous tone had the Slayer wincing. 

“Maybe you should sit down,” he urged. 

“What is it?” 

“The Council… Buffy, Glory isn’t just a demon. She’s a god.” 

It was a good thing she was sitting, or she would have collapsed upon hearing her watcher’s words. 

“A god?” she whispered. 

“I’m afraid so. It was probably why she was able to… uh…” 

“Kick my ass so easily?” 

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I’m sorry, Buffy. I know the news comes as a bit of a shock.” 

Giles began to ramble on, telling her what he could about the origins of Glory. Buffy wasn’t listening. Instead her mind was occupied with thoughts of Dawn and her mom – and how she wasn’t going to be able to protect them. It became too much for her to deal with, and she escaped to the training room while Giles was in mid-speech, locking herself inside. 

Ignoring the repeated banging on the door, and Riley’s demands to be let in.

~*~ *~*~*~

“What’s goin’ on?” Spike asked of Giles, having entered from the rear door and witnessed Riley’s belligerent pounding on the training room door. 

“The Council’s rung back. They’ve not been able to come up with anything other than to confirm our earlier findings. I just… informed Buffy. She’s…” 

“In denial?” Spike ventured to guess. 

“Yes… I suppose so.” 

“Well, then I guess we need to get workin’ on that translation. Didn’t suffer sunlight to my brain for nothin’. Figure there’s somethin’ in those pictures that tells us how to defeat her.” 

“Yes, of course.” 

The two attacked the translation with renewed vigor, keeping at it long after Riley had left in a huff. Truth be told, with his incessant banging now silenced, they were able to concentrate much better. Then came the distinct sounds of the Slayer training; the men shared a look, silently vowing to find the means to take down the creature that threatened Buffy and those she held dear. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“It can’t be that simple,” Giles commented some time later.   

The shop had closed and Anya had left with Xander when he’d come by to pick her up. There’d been a brief confrontation when the boy had seen Spike sitting next to Giles, his head buried in one of several books littering the table. 

Giles had been almost harsh in his demands that Xander cease and desist with his derogatory remarks. The boy’s dramatic departure had caused the other to roll his eyes in bemusement. Spike hadn’t even spared him a glance, too involved in deciphering the pictures that were now blurring before his eyes. 

Buffy had gone home as well at the urging of Giles, citing her need to visit with her mother – to make sure that she was feeling alright. She’d balked at first, but then Spike had asked if she could have Joyce make up a batch of hot cocoa and bring it back later before she began her patrol. 

“Could use a jolt of caffeine, and I can’t abide that swill you lot pass off as coffee,” he’d told her. 

She’d reluctantly agreed, and the shop had gone quiet after her departure, only the occasional sound of pages being turned and notes frantically scribbled down on paper interrupting the silence. 

“Rather doubt it is, Rupert. This just says that she can’t sustain being present in this dimension indefinitely and needs a human host. I’m sure she’d strong enough to make it bloody difficult for us to figure out who it is.” 

“Yes… yes, of course. What do you propose we do?” 

The question shocked him. The watcher was actually asking his opinion? Spike felt something swell in the region of his heart, and he sat there for a minute trying to decipher what he was feeling. He glanced over at the man, checking to make sure it was an honest question and not some snide remark. The only thing he saw on Rupert’s face was genuine concern. He covered his pleasure that he was actively being solicited for help by a man, who a few days ago, merely tolerated his presence by leaning back in his chair and pretending to contemplate the question. 

“We’re gonna have to draw her out somehow.” 

“Like… bait.” 

Spike thought of the Slayer, and how whipped she’d been after her first altercation with Glory. 

“Yes,” he agreed, though he hated to do so. “If we keep her distracted long enough, we can watch her change back to her human host. I think between the two of us, me and Buffy can—” 

“Get yourselves killed,” Giles finished. 

“You got a better idea, Rupert? I’m all ears.” 

Giles pulled of his glasses and tossed them onto the table. He rubbed wearily at his eyes in an attempt to ease the headache he could feel growing – thanks to their current situation and his lack of sleep. 

“Unfortunately, no… I don’t,” he finally allowed. 

“I’ll keep an eye on her, and if it seems like Glory’s getting the upper hand, we’ll beat a hasty retreat.” 

“And pray Glory doesn’t come after you.” 

“Goes without saying…” 

Their plan was put on hold when Buffy called them, frantic, stating that she was at the hospital with Dawn, that Joyce had had another fainting spell – this one lasting a lot longer than the last.


	7. Chapter 7

Upon walking into the Emergency Department waiting room, Spike was surprised at seeing only Buffy there, the Bit stretched out on a few chairs next to her, head resting wearily on the Slayer’s lap. There were no signs of either Xander or Willow and her girlfriend… or even Riley. 

She looked up at his and Giles’ approach, the lines of worry marring her face lifting slightly at seeing them. 

“Thanks for coming…” 

“What happened, Buffy?” Giles asked. 

“I’m not sure. One minute the three of us were in the kitchen, for once laughing together while mom cooked. The next, she was on the ground. I called 911 and they brought us here.” 

Spike sat down next to the slayer, offering her what comfort he could. 

“’m sorry, Buffy,” he told her sincerely. “Have the doctors said anything yet?” 

“No… but… I heard them talking… the ambulance guys. They think it may have something to do with mom’s head.” 

Spike could feel the Slayer’s anguish and wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and hold her. Only Rupert’s watchful gaze as he sat down in one of the plastic chairs across from them kept him from doing so. 

The four sat quietly as doctors and nurses scurried about, seeing to new arrivals and people in much the same situation as themselves – waiting anxiously for news of their loved ones. Spike wanted a cigarette to help ease his agitation, but the Slayer had gripped his hand at some point and had yet to release it, and he found the unconscious movement had gone straight to the region where his heart resided. However, it was a good thing he was a vampire and could better hold up against Buffy’s strength, or the bones would have been crushed under the pressure she exerted. Even now he could feel the strain, but did nothing to stop her. If crushing his hand was what it took to maintain her outwardly calm appearance… well, he’d suffered a whole lot worse in the past. 

An hour later, a male doctor walked out through the double doors that separated the gravely injured from their waiting loved ones and made his way over to them. 

“Buffy… hello.” 

Buffy carefully extracted herself from beneath her sister’s head, mentally sighing as Dawn slept on, and stood up. She barely noticed Giles and Spike stand with her, or that she’d yet to let go of Spike’s hand.  

“You know this man?” Spike asked, hoping he’d kept the jealously out of his voice. 

“Uh… yeah. He’s the doctor that was here before… the last time mom was brought in.” 

Her eyes were trained on the intern standing before her, trying to gauge the news he was about to impart. He’d obviously had practice at this sort of thing; his poker face gave no hint of whatever he was thinking.   

“Oh…” Placated by her explanation, his stance relaxed and he offered the man a tentative smile. “Hello.” 

“Hi.” Ben stared at the retro-fashioned male for a minute, trying to figure out where this latest male fit into her life, before turning back to Buffy. “I’ve got some news about your mother.” 

“What is it?” 

“She has a brain tumor,” he replied honestly.   

Buffy would have crumpled to the ground if not for the arm Spike slipped around her back to keep her upright. Already she could feel the tears forming as the reality of the situation set in, and she struggled to keep them from falling. She couldn’t give in to despair. 

“Can I… can we see her?” she whispered. 

“They’re still performing the CAT scan. I probably shouldn’t have even told you yet, but I recognized the name and saw you out here… and I— I’m sorry.” 

“No… thank you, Doctor. The wait was killing me.” 

“Look… why don’t you come with me? I’ll see if I can get you back near the examination room. That way when she comes out you’ll be the first thing she sees.” 

“Would you? I mean… you’re not going to get in any trouble, are you?” 

“Sure. It’s no trouble. Besides, it’s not like they’re gonna fire me. They’ll just grumble about me being a stupid resident that doesn’t know any better.” 

“Spike, can you…?” Buffy gave him a beseeching look. 

“I’ll look after Li’l Sis. You go.” 

“Thanks.” 

Spike released Buffy and stepped back slightly; he allowed himself to gently stroke her cheek, uncaring that her watcher stood there watching him with narrowed eyes. 

“Your mum’s a tough bird, luv. She’s got you for a daughter, yeah?” 

Buffy nodded once, took a steadying breath, and nodded some more – like she was trying to convince herself of Spike’s words. 

“If you’ll follow me…” Ben urged. 

Spike watched as she walked through the double-doors and disappeared from sight.  He made to sit down on the uncomfortable plastic, but then he heard the Slayer’s muffled scream. 

“Watch the Bit,” he told the watcher and took off through the double doors. He saw red when he rounded a corner and a female with red-blonde hair wearing doctor’s scrubs slammed the Slayer up against a wall, wrapped her hand around her neck, and lifted her several feet off the ground.  

“Where’s my key?” she demanded, and Spike knew that he was looking at Glory. 

He was down the hall in an instant, catching the hellgod off guard enough that she relaxed her hold on the Slayer. Glory’s screech of outrage was enough to make him wince, wishing for once that he wasn’t possessed of such keen hearing. He forced himself to ignore the abuse to his eardrums and grabbed frantically at the Slayer’s hand and hauled her to her feet, intent to take off and put as much distance between them and the scrub-wearing creature starting after them. 

“I want my key!” 

“Spike? We can’t—” 

She stopped, forcing Spike to stop with her. 

“Slayer… Buffy… do you trust me?” He stared at her earnestly, praying she’d follow him. Escape the hospital and lead her away from Dawn and the others. 

Buffy did. Staring up into his eyes, she realized at some point during their time spent in Cozumel, the barriers she’d erected around her heart had crumbled. Any number of things could have been the catalyst. Falling asleep with Spike on the couch. Enjoying his company as he treated her to dinner. Him suffering a slightly charred noggin in his quest to help her find whatever it was that would defeat Glory, and the way he offered his arm as a pillow.   

He’d been her friend. Someone she’d come to rely on. Depend upon. 

“Yes,” she told him unequivocally.  

“Good. Then run!” 

And they did. Out an emergency exit and into the woods that surrounded the hospital. The sound of the alarm ringing in their ears as they made good their escape. 

They ran until Buffy’s lungs threatened to burst and her legs went numb. Then they ran some more. Until no sound of the hellgod’s pursuit could be heard by Spike. Finally, he stopped and Buffy sank gratefully to her knees, her chest heaving as she tried to gulp down huge quantities of some much-needed air. 

“You alright?” Spike asked, squatting down beside her. 

Buffy could only nod, still unable to speak. “Dawn?” she managed to gasp. 

“Bit and the watcher should be alright. He’s smart; he’ll know to take her someplace safe.” 

“We’ve got to go back… my mom.” Her tone bordered on hysteria and she tried to stand. Unfortunately, her legs gave out and she crumpled back to the ground – they just weren’t up to being used right yet. 

“Come on,” he told her, easily picking the Slayer up into his arms. He started back towards the hospital, his sense attuned to the slightest disturbance.   

~*~*~*~*~ 

“What happened?” Giles asked when the two reemerged through the sliding glass doors of the Emergency Department.  

“We need to talk,” Spike told him. He’d set the Slayer down on her feet before they’d walked inside; Buffy hadn’t wanted to alarm her watcher. Now she was looking at him quizzically… right along with Giles. 

“What? What is it?” 

“Ben is Glory.” 

“Ben is with Glory? Oh dear lord. We’ve got to—” 

“No… Ben is Glory. Glory is Ben,” Spike explained patiently. 

“Why would Ben be with Glory?” the Slayer asked. “He’s just a doctor. And a new one at that. He didn’t seem to know about all the nasties that lurk around Sunnydale at night, let alone a god from a hell dimension.” 

“I saw her, Buffy. When she had you pinned up against the wall. She was wearing his kit, right down to the bloody nametag.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Oh, bollocks! Look… ya know what…? Never mind. She’s obviously worked some sort of mojo so no one that’s told will remember.” 

“Remember what?” Giles asked. “My apologies, I must have dozed off.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Rupes.” 

“Miss Summers?” 

Buffy turned away from Spike and Giles to see another doctor, this one much older than Ben, standing a few feet away. 

“Yes?” 

“Might I have a word?” 

“Uh… sure.”   

She walked off, leaving the two men to stare after her. 

“Miss Summers. My name is Doctor Isaacs. Your mother has... the term is low-grade glioma. It’s a brain tumor. The clinical name is oligodendroglioma. It’s in the left hemisphere of the cerebrum. In your mother’s case, the tumor seems to have started there. In other words, it hasn’t spread from another part of the body...” 

The majority of the doctor’s announcement went by in a blur, her mind stuck on two words: brain tumor.   

“… things may progress quickly…” 

She shook herself out of her stupor, latching into that last bit. 

“Things? What things?” she whispered. 

“Symptoms. Loss of vision. Appetite changes. Loss of motor control. I have some pamphlets. Look… I’m sorry, Miss Summers. I don’t want to appear like there’s no hope. I just want to inform you of the facts. Right now we’re trying to determine if the tumor is operable.” 

“Can I see her?” 

The doctor nodded. “They’re moving her to a recovery room right now. I’ll have a nurse come get you once she’s settled.” 

“Okay.” 

Buffy wasn’t quite sure if the word actually came out; she knew her mouth moved. She stood there, rooted to the spot, as the doctor disappeared back through the double doors, wanting nothing more than a do-over.  That what just happened had been a dream and that he’d reemerge and tell her that nothing was amiss. That her mom was just overtired and needed to rest more. 

Only… he didn’t. 

A pair of arms slipped around her and she was drawn back against a hard chest. Tears fell unchecked down her face and her body shook slightly in her grief. 

“I’m sorry, luv,” Spike whispered in her ear, soothing her as best he could. “Whatever you need… I’ve got a few markers out, demons that owe me a favor. We can bring someone in… get a second opinion. Please don’t cry, pet. We’ll get through this, I promise.” 

“Thank you.”    

“You want me to call Red?” 

Buffy shook her head. She didn’t want to have to deal with her friends right now. Having them see Spike here with her was bound to cause problems, and she wasn’t up to playing referee. And she damn well wasn’t going to send him home. She needed his strength right now. It was nice not having to be the strong one. The one everybody looked to in a crisis. 

“No. I’ll call them later.” 

After a while, a nurse led the four back to Joyce’s room. Giles and Spike waited while Buffy and Dawn slipped quietly inside – neither of the two felt comfortable intruding on what, to them, was a family matter. 

Joyce had other ideas, however, and Dawn appeared at the door a moment later and bade them come in. They were a family of sorts, at least in the elder Summers’ mind. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“What do you mean you’ll handle it, Spike?” Giles demanded. 

They’d been kicked out of the hospital room not long after Joyce had been settled, the nurse citing the need for her patient to rest. Buffy had reluctantly agreed and it was at that point she’d placed a call to Willow, telling her friend to rally the others at her home. 

Now, as the Scooby team plus Riley sat around the living room, their looks ranging from concern about Buffy’s recent reveal as to her mother’s condition, to outright hostility at Spike’s presence, he barely refrained from growling. 

“Look… I can’t talk about it. I know who the host is but every time I mention it, you lot forget.” 

“Need I remind you that the chip in your head will prevent you from hurting someone,” Giles intoned. 

“No, it won’t.” 

“What? The chip is out,” Xander squawked. “Hurry, Buffy! Stake him!” 

Spike just rolled his eyes. 

“No, you git. Chip’s still there.” 

“Then why? How?” Xander was confused. 

“The chip doesn’t ‘ _prevent’_ me from harmin’ humans, Harris. The pain does.” 

“Spike, if you do this—” Giles began. 

“I’m sure my brain will be fried. Yes. But, there’s no other option. Glory… she’s done something. Only it doesn’t appear to have worked on me. Prolly because I’m already dead. Look, it’s not open for discussion.  ‘m doin’ it.” 

That said, he stormed out of the room and out the front door, leaving the others to stare with astonishment at the space he’d once occupied. 

~*~*~*~*~

“Spike.” 

_How was she able to stop him dead in his tracks?_    

He didn’t turn around. He didn’t have to. She walked around in front of him, her eyes full of regret and something else. Something that had hope threatening to blossom somewhere deep inside his chest. 

“Don’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t… I can’t lose you… not with my mom…” 

“Shhh…” He drew her forward and held her close. His eyes closed at the pleasure of feeling her pressed up against him. At how she gripped the back of his duster and hung on for dear life, her head buried in his chest. “It’ll be alright, pet.” 

“No it won’t. Spike, please.” 

“I’ve got to do this, luv.” 

“Then let me come with you.” 

Spike gripped the Slayer’s shoulders and gently eased her away so that he could look at her. “Can’t do that, Buffy. You couldn’t sit by while I snapped some bloke’s neck and not do something.” 

“Yes I can… if it’s—” 

“No, luv, you can’t. It’s what I love about you. Now, I’ve got to go. By tomorrow, Glory will be but a bad nightmare. You and the Bit’ll be safe and you can concentrate on getting your mum better.” He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her.  “This here’s the name and number of one of my buddies. He’s a nice enough bloke, if a tad on the wrinkly side. His name’s Clem. You need something, anything for your mum, you contact him. He’ll see to it that you get it.” 

Spike released her and stepped back. 

“Be seein’ ya, Slayer.” 

He turned and walked away, determined to ignore her beseeching look. If he didn’t leave now, he never would. 

_One foot in front of the other, Spike. Don’t look back._  

He couldn’t do it. When he got to the edge of her property, he looked over his shoulder.  

She’d not moved from her spot. 

Their eyes met and held, then they were moving as one, back towards each other. 

Spike easily caught her as she launched herself at him. Oblivious to the male standing in the open doorway, he kissed the Slayer with everything that he had in him. Committing to memory the taste – the feel – of her, every breathy little moan she made as their teeth and tongues clashed. It was no gentle exploration. Spike threw himself into it whole-heartedly, determined to leave his mark on her. 

He finally tore his mouth away from hers and crushed the Slayer to his chest.   

“I love you, Buffy,” he murmured against her ear. He felt her grip tighten at his declaration and he allowed himself one moment to enjoy how she clung to him. That she would know how he felt even if she never felt the same.  

Before she could start in on her “demons can’t love” speech, he wrenched himself free and raced away. 

He didn’t see how the Slayer stared after him, long after he was gone. The way her legs gave out and she fell to her knees on the sidewalk. He didn’t see the one-sided shouting match by Riley and how she calmly broke things off with him, how he stormed off, vowing to get revenge against the vampire. 

Nor did he witness her watcher come out and lift the broken girl into his arms and carry her back inside. 

No, his mind was on Glory – Ben, specifically – and the best way he could get close to the human without raising his suspicions. 

The hospital, he thought suddenly. He could hide out there and wait for Glory to turn back into Ben and for the human to go back to work. Then it was just a simple matter of getting the doctor alone and snapping his neck. 

True, his brains would probably be scrambled, but at least the Slayer would be safe.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a simple matter to gain the location of Ben, the new resident, and find out his work schedule. Apparently, the female nurses thought the doctor was the best thing since sliced bread and were wont to discuss the recent addition to the Sunnydale Hospital, and how they might chance to run into him in the halls. 

Glory must not have had a lot of control over occupying her human host. Not long after Spike returned to the hospital, he found the man walking down the hallway, a clipboard held in his hand. 

“Ben, isn’t it?” he asked. 

The intern stopped and eyed the blond. 

“You were with Buffy earlier.” 

“Yes.” 

“How’s her mother? I haven’t had a chance to look at her chart yet. I’ve been kept busy here in the ER.” 

“Not good. Doc says it’s oligodendroglioma.” 

“Oh… I’m sorry. Well, I’m sure Dr. Isaac will take good care of her. She’s really in good hands.” 

“Ta, mate. Look… you got a second? I had a few questions… and since you’re here…” 

“Uh… sure.” 

A nurse walked past and gave the male doctor a sidelong look. He was oblivious, and Spike counted it as a good thing – maybe he wouldn’t realize how much danger he was actually in. 

“Why don’t we move out of the way? Seems to be a lot of people scurryin’ about in the halls.” 

Ben nodded and pointed towards one of the larger ER rooms that weren’t currently being used. He pushed the door open and walked inside, Spike trailing behind him. 

“What is it you wanted to talk—?” 

He never got to finish what he was saying. Spike grabbed him from behind and clamped a hand over his mouth. 

“Sorry, mate. This is gonna hurt me more than it is you. You’ll at least get the blessed numbness of death. I’m just going to end up a writhing pile of pain. But, we can’t have Glory running around makin’ things hard for the Slayer and her family.” 

Ben tried to scream behind the hand clamped over his mouth; it did no good. Struggling didn’t work either. The man that held him had a strength about him that he couldn’t conceive. He frantically shook his head, denying what was about to happen. 

The lack of warning zaps when he grabbed the human should have been his first clue. Ben’s neck gave a loud crack when Spike yanked his head to the side. The sound echoed around the room and reverberated in his ears. He allowed the body to fall from his grasp to the floor below. 

He knew the man was dead – he wasn’t breathing and his heart wasn’t beating. He also knew that he was human. 

So why wasn’t he a short-circuited pain overloaded mass on the floor? Why was he staring down at the doctor with some sort of sick fascination?  

It took a while… but then it hit him. 

His chip didn’t work. 

He could feel his demon bubbling up inside, rejoicing at being unfettered. He could kill again! He was free to be a vampire once more. 

No longer would he be the butt of jokes, both in the human and demon world. He was the Big Bad and heaven help anyone that didn’t realize that fact soon enough – he’d use their neck as a chalice and dine until he was full. 

At least, that’s what the demon thought. 

Spike knew better.   

He knew that the fastest way to getting staked was to start feeding again. Hell, once the Slayer found out, there was a good chance that she’d stake him anyway. Couldn’t have the evil, soulless, and now unchipped vampire wandering around the likes of Sunnydale. 

Her friends, her bloody watcher, would _demand_ she do her duty.   

He’d have to leave. 

But not without first saying goodbye. 

Spike sneaked out of the hospital room and made his way back to his crypt.  He needed to pack up his belongings before he cleared out for good. There were things hidden there that could prove embarrassing if anyone were to find them. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike knew Riley was inside as soon as he got close to his crypt. For one thing, his scent was all over the place, though it was concentrated more near the door, like he’d stood there for a while and debated whether or not to go inside. For another, the sounds of his nicked television suddenly crashing to the ground gave some indication that the person inside wasn’t too happy. 

A smile on his face, he pushed open the door and swaggered inside. This confrontation had been a long time coming, and Spike would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to putting the ex-commando in his place. 

“Ahh… the slayer’s boytoy…” he drawled. “To _what_ do I owe this unexpected visit?” 

Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it, drawing deep on the small stick so that the tip glowed a bright red and ate away at the end.   

“Spike,” Riley growled, a stake materializing in his hand. 

Spike had to give the boy some credit, his reflexes weren’t too bad. Unfortunately, they were nowhere near as fast as his. A fact Soldier Boy was soon to find out. 

“I almost think you’re not happy to see me, what with the destruction to my place and the less than stellar greeting on your part,” he goaded. 

“It ends now,” Riley told him. “I’m gonna do what Buffy should have done a long time ago.” 

“Oh really…” 

“Maybe then she’ll come to her senses,” he muttered under his breath. 

Spike was ready when he charged. The speed with which he disarmed Riley had the other’s eyes widening with shock… and dawning fear. 

“Your chip,” he whispered, eyeing the distance to the door. 

“You’d never make it,” Spike told him bluntly, seeing the direction of his fearful gaze. “But yes, it appears the chip is gone. Which means, you’re dealing with the Big Bad now, not some handicapped vamp.” 

“Buffy’ll stake you if you hurt me.” 

“Trust me, boy, the Slayer wouldn’t find out.” 

“Go ahead then,” Riley taunted. “You’re just a monster anyw—” 

The breath was choked out of him as he was flung up against the crypt wall and Spike’s forearm pressed into his throat. 

“I think the term you’re lookin’ for is ‘ _demon_.’  Lemme explain the difference… See, monster is what you are, thinkin’ you can come in here and stake a poor, defenseless vampire. One that has the Slayer’s protection, no less. Now demons… us demons kill to survive. We’re not motivated by jealousy, just a need for blood that has to be slaked, lest we perish away. And, I must say, I am feelin’ a mite peckish.” 

His fangs descended and ridges appeared along his brow, and Spike reveled in the fear he sensed in the ex-soldier. Though he crinkled his nose at the whiff of urine he smelt when Riley abruptly lost control of his bladder. 

“Don’t worry, Soldier Boy,” Spike finally told him. “I wouldn’t eat you even if you paid me. You’d prolly turn my stomach. But, I will tell you this. You come after me again and it’s open season. I don’t have to drain you to kill you. And after what I suffered at the hands of you lot last year, I’ll be inclined to introduce you to _my_ means of torturing victims. I assure you, you’ll crack long before I ever thought of doing so.” He shoved the soldier towards the door.  “Now get lost, before I change my mind.” 

“It’s not over,” Riley snarled once he reached the steel door. 

“For your sake, it better be. You don’t want to learn how I got my name.” 

Spike felt marginally better after Riley beat a hasty retreat. He was halfway down the ladder to the lower level when he cursed and rushed back upstairs and out the door. 

He needed to get to the Slayer’s house before Riley did. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike opened the door without knocking just in time to hear Riley say, “his chip doesn’t work anymore.” He walked into the living room, taking a moment to bask in the fear of each and every person in the room… save one. 

That one was staring at him with something akin to hope – and maybe a bit of disbelief – shining in her eyes. 

“Hello, Buffy.” 

“Spike?” she whispered, not daring to believe. “What… what happened?” 

Spike eyed the others scrambling to the far side of the living room, trying to put as much distance between him and them. He didn’t spare them a glance, other than to assure himself that they weren’t armed and weren’t stupid enough to try and attack him. 

“Hey, luv. I took care of that problem like I told you I would. Niblet’s safe now.” 

“But how?”   

Buffy gestured vaguely to his head, indicating his chip, and why he wasn’t brain mush just waiting to be dusted. 

“Not rightly sure,” he told her honestly as he sat down beside her on the couch. “But, I can hazard a guess. Remember when the sun hit my head?” 

Buffy shuddered and nodded. She’d never been more scared in her life –knowing that at any second he’d burst into flames. 

“Figured it must have burned it up.” 

“You mean all this time…”

“Uh huh. Not that I knew. Didn’t even suspect a thing when I grabbed the doc.” 

“The doc?” 

“Ben. He was Glory.” 

“Ben was Glory?” 

“Yes. I tried to tell you before, but the bint must have done something. Every time I brought it up, you and the watcher’d both quickly forget.” 

“You’re saying that young doctor, the one that was talking with Buffy earlier, was Glory?” Giles asked. His curiosity got the better of him and he walked from behind the end table to sit down on the one of the chairs – a chair that was a safe distance from the two blondes. 

“Yes. When Buffy screamed, I ran through the doors and saw her. Glory was sportin’ his kit, right down to the nametag. Like I said, I tried to tell you…” 

“Remarkable.” 

“So no more hellgod?” Buffy asked. 

“That’s right. No apocalypse… well, at least of the demonic nature. We do need to do somethin’ about your mum.” 

“Buffy, I’m all with the ‘Yay! Crisis averted,’ but um… shouldn’t you be like… staking Spike right about now?” Xander asked. “You know… evil, _unchipped_ Spike?”  

“No,” Buffy murmured, her eyes never leaving the vampire seated beside her. 

“No? What? Huh? I mean… why not?” 

“Because he loves me.” 

“Love? Um… hello. What about Riley? Your boyfriend Riley? As in standing right here next to me Riley?” 

“Riley’s not my boyfriend anymore.” 

“He’s not?” 

“He’s not?” Spike asked at the same time. 

At that point, the person being discussed stormed out of the house. Spike should have gone after him and made him apologize to the Slayer for the curses that fell freely from his lips. But she was looking at him – only him – explaining her reasons for giving the ex-soldier the boot.  

“No. After you left I broke it off. I told him that I wasn’t in love with him. That as much as he might love me, it wasn’t enough for the both of us. Did you mean it? What you said earlier?” 

“With all my heart, luv.” 

“I don’t know if I love you. But I _do_ know I care about you. I’d like to try… to see if this could work.” 

“You won’t regret it, Buffy,” he promised, drawing her onto his lap and hugging her tight. 

Objections from her friends and watcher started almost immediately – although Giles’ were half-hearted at best. He’d begun to suspect the way the vampire felt about his slayer even before the two had left for Mexico, and contrary to what had been written ad nauseam in the Watcher’s Chronicles, he knew first hand that demons did, in fact, feel. Besides, he was quite sure that Buffy would keep the vamp in check, and it would be nice to have someone around that didn’t act like a bloody teenager all the time. 

Though, as he spied the two making a stealthy retreat out of the living room while Tara launched into an explanation about Buffy and Spike’s auras to both Willow and Xander, and Dawn squealed about like a child high on caffeine, he figured he might have to amend that last thought. It was just like the vamp to leave him behind and have to listen to the petty squabbling and screeching that was enough to turn his hair completely gray. 

Thankfully, the events of the last twenty-four-plus hours eventually caught up with him, and he was soon stretched out on the couch, dead asleep. 

Outside, Buffy and Spike walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk on their way to the first of Sunnydale’s several cemeteries. A quick patrol, then a stop by the hospital to check on her mother. Maybe afterwards they could return to her place and watch TV together, talk for a while. 

She voiced as much and got a shy grin from Spike in reply. 

“Think we could make up some of your mum’s hot cocoa?” 

“Only if you know how to make it.” 

“I think I could manage that. I’ve watched her do it often enough.” 

“Then it’s a date.” 

_Oh, yeah… Sometimes being the Slayer wasn’t half bad…_


End file.
